All She Needs Is A Smile
by justinxx
Summary: My version of what leads up to The Joker's final lines of the Suicide Squad trailer. Joker's POV. Very Suicide Squad influenced. Warning: implied torture and the crazy thoughts of The Joker.


As I continued to thrash and beat the long dead Arkham guard, I couldn't help but laugh. It's funny how you see who people really are in their final moments.

 _Please don't kill me!_ He cried. _I have a wife and two children!_ How utterly pathetic! And hilarious!

Kicking the lifeless body for the hell of it one last time, I stood up and cracked my neck, my body tingling like electricity. It has been _so_ long since I've felt so alive! Being tied in a straightjacket for several months without killing anyone is harder than it looks.

As my body calmed down, the tingling in my body lessened, but I was still itching for more. I wiped the flecks of fresh, hot blood off my face and body through a fit of giggles, wiping my wet blood-covered hands on my Arkham branded sweatpants.

"Pardon me, I have an appointment with my psychiatrist" I apologize to Officer Dead Guy with a grin.

I step over the body and gaze through the rectangular window that looks into the morgue. A laugh rattles through my vocal chords, past the capped teeth that have been punched by Bat-Brain numerous times, and out my lipstick-smeared lips as I admire all the work that I've done.

The room inside is dimly lit and various medicines and medical contraptions have been thrown out of their cupboards and onto the floor. A rectangular light fixture has been ripped from the cemented ceiling and dangles on a hinge in the corner, the light blinking like the slowing heart of someone who's dying. The ground is littered with broken chairs, boring medical files, gun shells, and a few bodies. Two of my men stand armed around a gurney with my dear psychiatrist strapped in. She is wriggling around and trying to untie her restraints with no luck, my men laughing at her. Whatshisname is garbed in a grimy panda suit, wielding an automatic rifle and Jonny Frost, my right hand man, stands impatiently with his arms crossed, dual pistols holstered to his side. Good thing ol' Jonny Boy arrived at the time I told him before I let myself get captured; the pain of not hurting anyone was killing me!

It was time to make an entrance.

The door was already opened, inviting me to take charge. And boy was I going to. I look down and see a lonesome medical glove that lay at the front of the doorway. I bend down and pick up the purple rubber glove and pull it back against my pale right hand, the rubber snapping against my wrist as I let it go. Sanitation is important, after all.

My bare feet scrape along the chilling ground and a prolonged laugh escapes my smiling lips. Harley stopped wriggling and my henchmen looked in my direction. All lights were on me. Walking slowly, I stretch my arms out and allow my trusted henchmen to take in and admire the return of their Clown Prince of Crime.

"It's good to see you, boss" Jonny states with a sly smirk.

"Likewise, Jonny, old pal! You really outdid yourself on this one! You've made Daddy very, _very_ proud" I reply with a smile.

"We knew the Bat would fall for your plan, boss! We took over Arkham, like you planned! We're here to help break you out!" cried the goon in the panda suit, clapping.

Less than a minute in and he was already getting on my nerves. I want him dead.

"Oh, that's just marvelous, uh, what's your name? Billy? Charlie? Well, whatever it is, do you mind if I have a moment alone with Jonny and our dear guest, please?"

"W-whatever you want, Mr. Joker sir!" The oaf salutes and prances out of the room, tripping over the body of the guard I had killed. I chuckle.

"Sorry about that one, boss" Jonny apologizes. "Found him escaping Blackgate one day and he wanted to join. Says he's a big fan. It's been hard recruiting experienced people these past couple months. Since you've been gone, people have doubted you and left to join Sionis or someone else's gang. We'll get them back once you're back out on the street."

"It's alright, Jonny ol' pal" I sigh, glancing down at the specimen strapped to the gurney. "It's good to see that you're still loyal. We'll reclaim what was once ours." My face contorts and my body fills with rage as I kick over a cart and punch the glass of a cupboard. "But I want those who left me dead! Every one of them! And that oaf just because he's dumb!"

Smoothing my soft green hair back into place, I say calmly, "But save a little for me. I have some jokes that I've been _dying_ to use."

Jonny smirks at me, unfazed by my anger. "Sure thing, boss. Want a moment alone?"

A grin forms on my face. "You know me so well. I won't be too long. I just have one last appointment with Ms. _Quinzel_."

As Jonny leaves, the whimpering cries of the beautiful psychiatrist fill my ears, the peaceful sounds reminding me of an old song from my childhood. She is just lying there so exquisitely in her dirty white doctor's coat, red top and black skirt. Her usual wavy blonde hair is tied back in a ponytail and the black heels she had worn at our earlier session have fallen to the floor, leaving her barefoot. Her black rimmed glasses sit atop her small nose and her shining blue eyes widen in fear as I caress her smooth face, promising her that everything will be alright when I know things won't.

Through the strap of leather stuffed into her mouth, I almost feel sorry for poor little Harley as she cries, "Please, stop." I hardly ever feel sorry for my victims, but here I am, realizing that I've come attached to my lovely Harley Quinn. There's no way that I could kill her. She is meant for more than this. She doesn't deserve to be working in this rotting prison, to be judged by her male coworkers and overlooked by all who meet her. She's smarter, wittier, and tougher than she looks. All she needs is a smile.

I could use her. But not in the way I use most people. Yes, I used her emotions to my advantage to gain her trust and to break out of my cell. But you can't leave someone who's done so much for you.

I could use someone to rule Gotham City with.

I could use someone who understands me.

I spin the overhead lamp that shone brightly on poor Harley, tears falling down her cheeks as the light spins around her figure. I peer to my right and see two defibrillators attached to the wall. A wonderful idea pops into my beautiful mind as I reach over to them, one in each hand. I shock the ends together and a blue spark pops at my face. I feel myself form a large smile as I look back at my dear Harley.

"Please… don't kill me" I hear her cry, her face damp with tears.

I wipe at her cheeks with my gloved hand and hold the defibrillators up for her to see.

"Oh, I'm not gonna kill ya," I promise.

"I'm just gonna hurt ya. Really, _really_ bad!"


End file.
